


Can't Go Back

by merae2888



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6586360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merae2888/pseuds/merae2888
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke laughs, licks the curve behind his ear. “I can’t stop.” She pushes away from him so she can rake her hands down his chest, dip her fingers into the waistband of his shorts. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Go Back

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing but fluff and smut because Bellamy and Clarke deserve to have a little fun!

Their first few weeks at the sea redefine the word busy: building shelter that won’t tip over with a slight gust of wind, finding food enough for the remaining 100 in a desert like atmosphere, harvesting rainwater so the salty ocean water doesn’t become their only source of water. They’re too frantic trying to shape a life that the fun things to do at the sea take a backseat to the essential to living chores. Eventually, though, life settles down and the kids are quick to figure out what’s fun. Even Bellamy has to admit that the surfboard that Miller crafts is a blast. There’s no other feeling like a wave curling at your back, propelling you forward to the shore, salt water spraying in your face. Everyone spends part of everyday soaked to the bone, wrapped in sunshine.

Everyone but Clarke.

He doesn’t realize at first, because surviving is so all consuming. Then one day, he sees her on the rocky outcropping, watching the kids warily as they splash in the waves. They’ve been at the sea for almost a month and he’s never seen her go into the water deeper than her knees.

She can’t swim, or is afraid to, or thinks she doesn’t need to know how. He gets it. She watched his sister get bit and dragged by some monstrous sea dwelling beast and just the story horrifies him.

He sits next to her, making the same expression as she as they stare out at the water, glistening in the over-bright sun. “Pretty day.”

She grunts. “It’s hot.”

He looks over at her, which is a colossal mistake. Her cheeks are pink and the short hairs on her forehead are sticking to her dewy skin. She licks her lips, catching a bead of sweat on her upper lip. “You should go in,” he suggests, before thinking about what seeing her soaking wet might do to him.

She laughs and nods at the splash war that’s in the process of breaking out: Raven on Jasper’s shoulders, trying to shove Octavia off Lincoln’s shoulders. “They’re having enough fun for me.”

“I meant to cool off. You’re hot.” She glances at him, that little frown between her brows and he coughs. “You seem overheated, that’s all. Shut up.”

Clarke suppresses a wry smile.

“I’m fine here. There’s a breeze.”

It’s a nice breeze and it blows soft blonde strands of gold around her face and some get caught on her lips. His hand twitches like he’s thinking about brushing them back.

It takes a second longer than it should for him to pluck up his courage because he’s got all these thoughts, suddenly, about Clarke and him, in water, and what this element that they’ve never explored together might mean. What it could change. They’ve worked so hard on their relationship and they’ve finally got a foundation that feels like the old Dropship days. He depends on her again and isn’t afraid that she might run off in the middle of the night and she finally believes that he doesn’t hate her and never really did. It’s all working. Swimming lessons couldn’t really screw things up that bad, could they?

“I could teach you,” Bellamy offers without looking at her but he can feel it when her eyes slide over his face.

“I don’t know.” She doesn’t pretend to misunderstand him and Bellamy wonders when that in sync thing happened. He already knows what she’ll say if he pushes it: that its not important, she doesn’t need to know how to swim when they have so many people here that are strong swimmers, it’s not vital to everyday life. He knows she’s not scared, more respectful of how dangerous it is.

“It’s fun,” Bellamy says casually. “You might like it.”

She scrunches up her pinking nose. “What about the sea monsters?”

Bellamy doesn’t laugh, even though that’s what she wants, as he glances back at the water, sparkling like so many diamonds in the sunshine. “I’ll protect you,” he offers softly, earnestly.

Their gazes hold for a second and then Clarke laughs, and it’s soft, rolling, gentle as the waves smoothing out the shore. Bellamy wonders if she laughs like that for anyone else.

It’s still dark when he wakes her the next morning. She leans against him as they walk to the water, bumping into him with every sleep-addled step. “I thought we should do this before everyone woke up,” he says.

“So they don’t have to watch their fearless leader trying not to drown?”

Bellamy just rolls his eyes and shrugs out of his shirt. Clarke’s swallows and has to avert her gaze at the way his muscles ripple. He wades into the water, hopping to get his body acclimated to the cold water. Clarke’s still staring at him and the goose-bumps prickling across his shoulder blades when he glances over at her. “You coming?” He dips under, reemerges with wet, dark curls in his eyes.

She hadn’t thought this through. When he’d shaken her awake this morning, she’d been too sleepy to think about this part, the stripping down to next to nothing and getting into the water with him. She takes off her pants and then shirt, thanking the Ark for the sensible underwear that was issued to everyone.

The icy water sends shivers down her spine. Bellamy’s eyes only widen for a second when he sees what she’s wearing and walks backward into the depths, beckoning her to follow him. When the water hits her bare stomach, she shudders.

“You okay?” Bellamy asks. He’s crouching down so low the water is lapping around his neck, the rest of his body disappears into the shallow depths so that she can’t make out any of his limbs.

“Of course,” she gasps but Bellamy just grins and it’s teasing but mostly affectionate as he reaches forward and grasps her wrists in his large, strong hands.

“Relax. I got you,” he whispers as he pulls her in deeper. The water rushes around her and for a second, it’s all she can hear. “Here, put your hands on my shoulders.”

Her nails bite into his skin as she clings to him. She’s all stilted limbs and stiff movements. Bellamy laughs lightly. “Stretch out, let the water take you.” Clarke rolls her neck, lets her legs rise to the surface until she’s floating on her stomach. Bellamy angles his body beneath hers, so she’s floating just above him, so close that she can feel his calves against her feet. He clears his throat when their bodies bob against each other. Gently, he kicks his feet, sweeps back his arms and shoulders, propelling them into deeper water. Clarke’s eyes fall shut. “Kinda nice, huh?” Bellamy asks, his voice low and tentative.

She nods, keeps her eyes closed, allows Bellamy to drag them deeper. His warm, rough palms settle on her waist. “Don’t make me do all the work.” She opens one eye, frowns fondly at him. “Kick your legs,” he instructs and when she does, their feet knock together. He stands on the sandy ocean floor and walks backward as Clarke kicks and her hair grows dark where it gets wet and starkly stands out against the sharp line of her collarbones. The rock wall he bumps into is rough. He pulls her close on instinct and Clarke comes pliantly into his space, crowds herself close to his body and he holds her there, tightening his fingers around her ribs.

Her arms wind tighter around his neck and they’re suddenly flush together, touching at every angle, wet, chilled skin slicking together. He pants as she hugs him, wraps her legs around him, her breath a shiver on his neck.

“Clarke,” a rough plea, a hopeless confession.

“I can’t believe we’re swimming right now.”

“Well, actually, I’m swimming, you’re just using me as a flotation device.”

“Thank you.” She kisses his cheek.

“Yea, well, everyone should know how to swim,” he rasps.

“For this life.” Her lips sweep across his forehead. “For this home.”

When she pulls back to look into his eyes, hers are pleading. His fingers tremble as he brushes a strand of hair from her face. With a half-smile that’s screwed up from genuine adoration, he quips, “Anytime.” Then softer, against the corner of her mouth, “For you, anytime.”

She catches his bottom lip with her wet mouth, gasps as his tongue slips over hers. Bellamy’s hands find her ass, gripping until the bite of his digging fingers makes her groan into the hollow of his mouth. Water splashes into their faces as he tries to keep them above the surface. And maybe its because kissing Bellamy feels so much like drowning that Clarke hasn’t even noticed that she’s deeper in the water than she’s ever been before. And who cares when she’s lit from the inside out, a fire sparking under her skin, flowing from where he’s holding her, touching her. He’s hard and she’s grinding down, his hands are on her ass, his mouth sucking her collarbone.

“If we don’t stop, we’re gonna drown,” he breathes into the hollow of her throat.

Clarke laughs, licks the curve behind his ear. “I can’t stop.” She pushes away from him so she can rake her hands down his chest, dip her fingers into the waistband of his shorts. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you?”

“Fuck,” he exhales, as she finds him hard and straining. She strokes his cock in her fist and it’s all awkward and sloppy because of their weird angle but Bellamy still pulls her sharply into his chest. Her arm gets trapped between them while he mouths at the tops of her breasts. She fingers the tip of his cock and he thrusts into her palm as hard as he can. He scrapes the calloused pads of his fingers down her spine and shoves his hand into her scrappy shorts, palms the round swell of her ass and she grinds into his hard on.

“I need…ugh,” Clarke whines into his shoulder. She licks at the patch of freckles tucked into hollow of his collarbone. She twists her hand on his cock and he stumbles, nearly drops her.

“What, babe? Tell me what you need,” he pants into her breasts. He tugs the fabric of her bra away with his teeth, slides his tongue down until he catches the tip of her pebbled nipple. Her free hand tangles in his wet hair and she drags him forward until she can reach the shell of his ear. Her breath is hot and heavy as she tells him that she wants to suck his cock, wants his glorious mouth on her cunt. Bellamy fumbles them sideways, water splashing into their faces, searching for the edge of the tiny cave where the kids hide from him and Clarke to smoke things that Monty and Jasper give them.

Clarke laughs breathlessly when he spins them to set her on the rocky edge. He surges up after her, pulls her bra off, licks the saltwater from between her breasts, mouths his way down her stomach as she makes these perfect, little mewling noises. He breathes warm and heavy on her underwear, sucks the supple skin of her inner thigh. Bruises are going to form on her hips where he’s holding her like his life depends on it and she wants them, wants visual reminder of how it feels to have Bellamy on her, spreading her legs apart, nosing his way through her dark wet curls while he drags her panties off until he can press his trembling tongue to her clit. She jolts when he licks into her, scratches through his hair and across the back of his neck. Bellamy’s moaning embarrassingly at the taste of her, the sweet tang that’s all Clarke, soaking up as much as possible on his tongue, lapping and sucking at her like a starving man. Her heels dig into the dimples at the base of his spine.

Clarke’s bones ache with it, with how much she can feel him wanting her, needing her. She grabs his wrist and tugs his hand from its clench on her hipbone, sucks his fingers into her mouth, bites down gently on his knuckles, tongues at the tips.

“Fuckfuckfuck Clarke fuck,” he mutters into her cunt and then he sinks three fingers into her tight center, matches the pace of her sucking and laving his tongue on her clit until she’s calling his name and tugging on his hair so harshly that it makes him tear up.

He goes to wipe his mouth and she catches the edge of his jaw, draws his face to hers, licks her cum from his lips and he bites soft kisses into her mouth and across her cheeks. She’s salty and sweaty and a little grimy, there’s sand beneath them and there’s some in her hair and stuck to her neck from when she was thrashing with her orgasm and she’s fucking delectable and Bellamy has this wild notion to bottle her up, bathe in her and drink her and he only feels vaguely disgusted with himself because she tastes like life and sunshine and the best parts of this fucking planet.

“We can’t go back. This can’t be a one time, thank god we’re alive, kind of thing because you are-“ Her eyes are wide and dark blue, almost black, somehow still sparkly, her mouth is turned down but it’s soft, like it is when she’s got a grim kind of hope. He cradles her face, feels the throb of her pulse where his arm presses against the side of her neck. “You are the air in my lungs and the best part of my soul and my beating heart and I can’t go back.”

Clarke’s smile twitched against his thumbs. “I can’t go back, either. I wouldn’t want to.” She leans forward the last few inches, breathes the best thing he’s ever heard into his mouth, “You’re my home.”

It’s warm after that, the desperate edge of want melting into tenderness as she strokes him, lays him back and straddles his legs. She smirks at him and what might have fueled his dirtiest fantasies at one point is now the most beautiful, romantic sight he’s ever seen. He flops an arm over his eyes when she takes him into her mouth, sucking sweetly at the tip of his cock as she fondles his balls and almost laughs out loud at the warm, fuzzy feeling that’s expanding in his chest. He cups her head, combs through the golden strands of her hair, his cock hits the back of her throat and he sighs like it’s not the hottest fucking thing but like it’s salvation and maybe the soft stroke of her tongue and her hollowed cheeks are the closest thing to heaven he’ll ever get.

He comes in her mouth and Clarke hums as she swallows. She crawls over him, licking at her lips, rubbing her hard nipples over his abs. She skims her nose up the column of his throat, plants baby kisses into his hot, dewy skin, nips at his pulse point. She rubs her thigh against his half-hard cock and the world stops for a second as she smiles down at him, batting the hair out of her face. She’s still smiling when they kiss and it’s slow and Bellamy likes that. Everything on Earth is fast and frantic but Clarke’s tongue is gentle and caressing and when he lifts his hips against her lazily she giggles into his mouth and wriggles over him, slowly takes him in hand and guides him to her center. She sinks down, breathing out in relief when he’s fully inside her.

“You’re my home,” she says as she moves, slowly, taking her time, savoring the stretched feel of him inside her. He finds her hand above his head and threads their fingers together. She fucks him like there’s nothing else in the world to do, like nothing matters but the way their hearts beat in tandem, the way she slips on his sweaty chest and pants his name in his neck. His wraps his arms around her, runs his hands all over her back and grips her ass so her can thrust into her harder but they drag it out, they make it last. They kiss sloppily and he rubs her clit lightly. He comes, his orgasm not mind blowing but sweet and steady and slow, it goes on and on because when Clarke comes, she makes this noise and shudders and lays her head on his chest and the weight of her is lighter than anything that’s laid on his heart for a long time and he goes soft inside her as they hold each other in the sand, bodies cooling and saltwater drying sticky on their skin.

“I lied,” Clarke says, a little hoarsely.

“About what?” The filthy things she said about his cock and hands are playing on repeat through his head and he really hopes that’s not what she’s talking about.

She leans up, kisses him with her dry, swollen lips. “I can swim. Not well but well enough that I wouldn’t drown…so I didn’t really need lessons.”

Bellamy gasps, all fake outrage. “You didn’t go in the water for weeks, knowing I’d notice and that, because I’m such an amazing, thoughtful guy, I’d eventually ask if you wanted swimming lessons?”

Clarke smiles, kisses him again and nestles into his chest. “Yep, my evil plan worked.”

"Your evil, dirty plan." Bellamy cuddles her close, presses his face into her hair. “You are diabolical.”

“You love it.”

He doesn’t deny it.


End file.
